


I Know You're Hiding...

by QuietAlias



Series: A Blast From The Past! : Old OneShots. [2]
Category: Call of Duty, modern warfare
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-20
Updated: 2015-06-20
Packaged: 2018-04-05 06:39:45
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,836
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4169781
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/QuietAlias/pseuds/QuietAlias
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Captain of the valiant Task Force One-Four-One goes poking around to find out the truth.</p>
            </blockquote>





	I Know You're Hiding...

Frostbitten portals, resembling a lake in the middle of December stared off in one direction. The reflection they bore was of a Sergeant sitting under an oak tree - the leaves currently turning colors due to the season's change. Her crimson hair and sparkling Harlequin eyes flashed like the morning sun on the horizon. Strands contrasting against her poreclain like complexion. Their eyes focused on a book so intently - they did not even notice they being watched. He blinked but once for a quick moment - he continued to study her. She was the newest member to join his Task Force - and even he, as vigilant as he was, he couldn't quite figure out what plagued her almost pure eyes. He could see the pain, scarring and... What he thought to be blood coursing through them. Crimson as thick as he had seen numerous times before. The rusting iron smell permanently saughtered to the inside of his nostrils - the sticky and thick cells against his roughed skin.

This was not something he wanted to think of when he looked into a human being's eyes. Such hatred, pain and so little caring for their life. An obvious disregard to the seriousness of war. Almost... like they didn't care that they were alive. Like everyone else in his unit - he knew of their stories. The pain they've endured. He walked towards her - he was just going to talk to her about it. Like he had did many times before. As he sat down, she looked up. "Yes, Captain MacTavish?" Her voice was soft, almost angelic.

 

Soap returned her a smile. "I wanted to talk to you, Cassidy." He gestured to his attire. "You can just call me Soap or John - since I am lacking in uniform."

 

Her hands closed her book. "Talk to me? About what? If it's about all the pranking - that's all Roach."

 

He chuckled in his throat. "No, not about that..." His eyes now bore into hers. "What happened?"

 

She sat up - unsure of what he meant. "What do you mean?"

 

"The pain in your eyes - that is something you just can't hide." He leant back. "What happened?"

 

"Nothing happened."

 

"That's not what your soul says."

 

Her arms crossed. "Out of curiosity - what does my soul 'say'?"

 

"It says that you're in pain. You've been tramatized. Used. Thrown away. But why? By who? That, I don't know. I've come searching for answers, if only you'll tell me."

 

She got ready to stand. "I highly doubt that is any of your business. It happened, it's over with and I no longer wish to discuss any of it." She became defensive. "Just because you're my Captain - it odes not mean I have to talk to you about this subject."

 

"I won't judge you, if that's what you're afraid of." He looked at her with only one of his eyes - the other one shut. "If you were curious as to how the rest of the Task Force can talk to so freely about what had happened to them - it's because I spoke to them first. I helped them out of their hiding - their drowning in their own minds. As I'm sure you've heard of what happened to Ghost - he used to be very bitter about it. The man hardly ever laughed. Never really spoke to any of us about it." He now turned his head to look at her. "Never have I seen so afraid to speak of their own life - but he did. It relieved a ton of pressure from his shoulders. Maybe it will help you. Just as it has the rest."

 

Cassidy took a breath in deeply - until it completely filled her slowly hollowing stomach. "It doesn't.. matter."

 

"Well, I think it does. You're a very sweet woman and I would like to know." He paused. "Why is it your eyes hold onto so much pain. Who would've caused it to someone as pure as yourself?"

 

"People are sick. You should know that by now."

 

"Aye, they are. I just want to know what made you... You."

 

"Is there no avoiding this conversation?"

 

"Not really."

 

Cassidy felt her back place against the sturdy oak tree once more - she never spoke of her past. Not to anyone. The exhaled breath trembled slightly as her mind began to rack of where to start. Perhaps, from birth? Or somewhere in the midddle. She couldn't really pick a place to start from, so she picked the beginning. "I guess I can... Discuss this delicate subject with you. Do I tell you every little detail or just a quick run down?"

 

"You tell me." He sat up straight. "It's up to you whether you want to tell me all or none."

 

"Alright..." For some reason, she felt safe to confy to him. To let him know that she was in pain - but she couldn't place why. "My conception was a mistake. A simple thought at the back of my mother's mind. The last thing she wanted to happen that night was for her to conceive me. Though, it seems something had other plans. At this point, I still don't know if it was the God or the Devil who implanted his seed into my mother. For it was never meant to be. My mother... She was a cheating whore. I am a cheat baby. That's all I am. I am not a baby made of love. I am a baby made of boredness and thirll." She now looked away from him. "Whoever decided for me to live made sure of it. The.. morning after pills my mother took didn't work either. They failed along with the supposed condom. Ever since birth - I haven't been wanted. I haven't been loved. I haven't even been liked. I was just... there for reasons beyond my mind to fully comprehend."

 

Soap now reached out for her hand, but she pulled away. "That's... A good start for venting, I suppose."

 

Cassidy took in another breath - deeper than the one before. "My father knew I wasn't his. He beat me relentlessly... Up until his death." She pulled into herself deeper. "He died December of Ninteen Ninty Seven. He and his mates were coming home drunk from the pub. I was only nine, but as I got older I began to piece everything together. The more it became clear that I had been present at the time of his death. The more it all came back to me. I had waited outside in the cold - as children weren't allowed in pubs. Or so I had been told. My parents divorced when I was six. So, God knows who my mother was screwing. As strangers passed by, I was mostly ignored. But a few would stop and question why I was out by myself. I would point to the pub and assure them my father would be out in a few moments."

 

She swallowed hard, and took in another breath. "If this is too hard for you.. You can tell me bits at a time." His hand gripped her shoulder.

 

"N-no... I can do this." Her shoulder tensed at his touch. "It had to be at least twelve in the morning when he came out, we both had arrived at ten. He told me to get up because we were going home. I didn't hesitate and I followed my father. About half-way home, he and his mates were being obnoxiously loud. One, if I remember right... His name was Bennet, but Ben for short - he had ran into a rather buff fellow. After he was shoved onto the ground, he began spewing some rather nasty words at the man. The man's mates came outside at the commontion and they all were yelling at each other. I had been brought up a few times by the gentler male. Saying how there was a child present, and that they should all just calm down. They didn't listen. The next thing I remember was at least twenty, or even more, bullets sounding through the night. My father, along with his mates, had all been shot point blank by assorted hand-guns. I was only a child, so I had been spared."

 

She regained her composure yet again. "As I watched as my father's blood oozed out of a shoulder and chest wound - I couldn't help but just sit there. His hand grabbed around my arm and for once in his life... He seemed at my mercy - not the other way around. Though, I expected to be hit... He told me something I never thought I'd hear him say. It was his dying breath. His guilty, dying breath and he wanted me to know. Before he would die - just as he knew he was going to. I can remember it clearly as if he had just told me a moment ago... 'Cassie... I know.. I haven't been the best dad I could be.. You must understand, I dearly did love you.. but I over-shadowed that with the resent of your mother... I do love you, Cassidy and I'm sorry you only get to know now. I wish... I had let you know how much I did before this, but... I'm an idiot... You're going to do such great things, dear. Don't let anyone ever make you think different.. You're going to marry, and you're going to have beautiful children.. I know I hit you, and I belittled you, but... I never meant it. No matter if I'm going to hell for being the son of a bitch that I am, or spared to go to heaven - just remember... I'll always be watching out for you and protecting you... I... Promise..."

 

Her wrist wiped a stream of tears away. "My father did have his moments of showing me he did care - but they were very little. It took his death to finally be honest with his only child... After he had told me that, I watched as his eyes rolled back into his head and... heard the last exhale of breath I'd ever hear come from his lungs. I desperately wanted him to live, so I shook him. Hoping... he'd wake up. But of course, he didn't. My hands can still feel his warm crimson blood coating them. I had screamed for him to wake up, but never-the-less... After I had given up, I put my head on his chest. I was to lie with my father until someone showed up. The police finally showed about half-an-hour later, and they took me to the station. My mother was phoned, and she didn't even care. I was able to see my father one last time and that was the last I saw of him. She didn't go to the funeral, therefore, nor did I. I was now forced to grow up with her taking care of me. All in all... I wished that I had been shot that day... And died with my father."

 

As more tears rolled down her cheeks, she began to wiped them with her wrists. Soap, put his arm over her shoulder and pulled her to his chest. She wasn't done, and she wasn't going to stop there. "My mother went from boyfriend to boyfriend. I was often locked away in my room... some instants... After she had... fallen alseep... They'd come into my room. They wanted to see if I was anything like her, but I wasn't.. So, unlike her being so willing.. I wasn't willing at the least." She didn't make any eye-contact. Hoping he'd get the gist of what she had meant. He did, she could tell by the gentle squeeze she had bene given. "That lasted from age twelve, up until age sixteen. I was so beyond fucked in my head, that I ran away. I went to stay with friends. I had no self-esteem. I hated my body. I hated who I was... I eventually got into heroin, but that was for a very short term... I eventually moved to cocaine. If you are wondering how I paid for my new addictions - I prostituted myself for it. Along with my friends. This lifestyle went along with drinking, partying and the many things that I did. It lasted up until I was twenty-one. I had over-dosed and my oh, so, good friends just left me in front of a hospital."

 

She tensed slightly. "But during my teen years, before I start with adulthood - I was just a play-toy for many people. Maybe they wanted sex. Maybe they wanted things. It was different for many people. Some just wanted to see me in pain. Some just wanted to see me die. I was used in every single way possible you can use a person. I completely just ran away when I was sixteen, as I had mentioned. I had numerous boyfriends, and people I thought were friends - but they showed me different. After I over-dosed, I was placed in a rehablitation center. I soon slipped into depression and I tried killing myself time after time - but... At every brink of death, I would live. I failed for the tenth time, and I completely just stopped. I shut down. I went into an awake coma. As the term contridicts itself, let me explain. I was fully awake - I was just dead on the inside. I couldn't think. I couldn't feel. I was just... alive. I wasn't happy. I wasn't sad. I wasn't angry. I wasn't anything. I was just a woman who could say she had died."

 

Soap really couldn't say anything. This was more than one person could go through. "Why did you.. come into the Military, exactly?"

 

Cassidy sighed. "It was the last thing I could think of that I could be... used. Silly, isn't? I awoke from my living nightmare about.. six years ago. I stopped sulking, but I was still not fully functioning. All I really am I a high-functioning wreck." Soap had heard that phrased before - Ghost had explained himself that way. "If even high-functioning. Maybe just a wreck. Something along those lines. As I tried to ressurect myself, I walked down to the enlistment office. Keeping out those vital points of my history - besides the OD in two-thousand eight. I somehow passed. Every night I can still hear my father's dying breath. The gurgling of multiple people I knew ODing - most of them dying. Every memorial service I've attended. All the nightmares from the sexual and physical abuse... It's a wonder how I am still... Alive. But I am. Here, I still breathe next to you - but I'm still falling apart. My mind still trying to put itself back together, and my emotions dusting themselves off after such a long sleep."

 

Soap now took this time to push her away slight - not as in to get off him, but so he could look in her in the eyes. "I can't really tell you how I can help you with all of that, but I do know one thing. I, among a bunch of other people here on base, are glad that you didn't die. I think you're a fantastic person, who has went through hell - hoping to be promised heaven on the otherside. I can help you by making your life fun. Making you forget all the pain that you've seen. That you've felt. Also, I think I have a theory of why you didn't die. Well, two."

 

Cassidy tilted her head slightly. "What?"

 

"Well, first off - your father didn't let you die because he promised to protect you for as long as he could. He has an enternity to do that. The second, so you could come into my life. Into everyone's lives. We're all glad we have you around, and we love you very much. At least... I know I do."

 

She looked away. "Perhaps... That is why I am still alive."

 

Soap now stood. "That is why you're here. After all." He pulled her close. "You already know I love you."

 

Cassidy looked around. "You don't... show your feelings in public..."

 

"While in uniform." He kissed her forehead. "Now, let us work on the second chapter to your life. This one is titled... 'The Badassary of Task Force One-Four-One'. Subtitled 'It's Better Because it has John MacTavish in it'."

 

"You're such a dork." She giggled.

 

"Got you to laugh, didn't I?" He all but winked, before turning them both around. "For now, it will get better step by step - eventually... You won't even remember your past. But, for now, we go to get food with the rest and watch as Ghost and Roach fight over cookies." His throat chuckled.

 

Cassidy rolled her eyes as she laughed as well. "It wouldn't be normal without it."

 

"No, it wouldn't."

 

Cassidy still felt the pain that her past had given her, every waking moment - but it dulls down. She is currently happy with all of her friends, her boyfriend - and the adventures they have. After all, it is titled "The Badassary of Task Force One-Four-One."

**Author's Note:**

> This was my character's old history, which no longer stands since I have made her MacMillian's daughter permanently.


End file.
